


Her Right Kind of Wrong

by Sira



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-12
Updated: 2012-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-12 00:13:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sira/pseuds/Sira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just some pwp for the prompt: Galactica's Showers</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Right Kind of Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

His body was wet under her hands, her mouth. Warm water rained down on them, helped drown out their soft sounds of pleasure, her hums, his moans. More than once he had told her they had to be quiet about this, couldn’t be caught, but feeling him slide inside her body, she couldn’t help the needy whimpers. With him, she felt alive, couldn’t get enough of it. He was her right kind of wrong.

He was all soft skin over hard muscles. A finely sculpted body she could look at, explore for hours. Being with him she felt younger, more carefree.   
Dying while the human race was short of extinction should keep her mind on other matters, yet he had gotten under her skin. He was the ray of light in a darkness that seemed to swallow her whole.

“Lee. Please.”

She had no idea what she asked him. To stop? To go on? To make her forget about politics, cylons, her own demise? She knew he expected more of him than he could possibly shoulder.  
What would his father say if he knew she didn’t like to use the showers on board of Galactica for their endless supply of warm water? 

The tiles at her back were rough, scraped her skin while he thrust harder and harder, his thumb stroking her clit every few thrusts, knowing she loved the feeling of being kept at the edge. She had never told him, hadn’t needed to. They understood each other, were good together. 

He nibbled on her earlobe, while her nails dug into his shoulders, leaving marks she shouldn’t.

“Come for me, Laura.”

She didn’t want this moment to end, just didn’t, but her body betrayed her, clenching around his hard cock, taking him right with her. His mouth found hers, his kiss demanding and gentle at the same time, while he still moved inside her, causing tiny aftershocks which left her breathless. Moments or minutes later, she should care, she knew, they slid down the wall, sat on the ground in a tangle of limbs.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered, and she pulled away a bit, put a finger over his lips, shaking her head no. 

As hard as his shell appeared as gentle was his character. He wasn’t made of steel, a not so well guarded secret. She couldn’t protect him, dreaded she would live to see the moment he hardened, when he would crush under the burdens of their post-apocalyptic life.

“You will. But not today. Not tomorrow.”

His eyes bore into hers, unspoken feelings so clearly communicated. There was much to say, yet no time for any of it. Finally, a sad smile appeared on his face while he brushed a wet strand of hair behind her ear. He closed his eyes for a moment, opened them again, mask firmly in place. They all had to wear masks if they didn’t want to lose the modicum of strength they all clung to.  
“You know, next time I want to take you from behind.”

She nearly laughed out, didn’t as she knew it would sound like the sob it would be. Next time. Another stolen moment. She shivered from anticipation, from fear there wouldn’t be a next time.  
“I can’t wait.”


End file.
